Shopaholic In High School
by Vee22
Summary: What would Becky, Luke, Suze, Alicia and the rest of the gang have been like in high school? Join me for their adventures, friendships, dramas and romances at Oxshott Prep.
1. First Day at Oxshott Prep

OK. Don't panic. _Don't panic._

So what if it's my first day at a new school where I won't know a soul?

I can make friends. I _will_ make friends. In fact, I bought a book called _Making New Friends_ just the other day. It's written by a guy called David E. Barton. I've read three chapters already and he sounds like he knows what he's talking about.

_Making new friends, _David E. Barton says, _is not nearly as difficult as people might think. Just try a new hobby or activity and you never know whom you may meet there. It's all about having a common interest._

A new hobby or activity. Right, I can do that. All I have to do is try out for the gymnastics team or maybe join one of the language clubs. After all, as Mum keeps telling me, "there are advantages to attending the poshest private school in Oxshott." I'm sure those advantages include activities of some sort.

The thing is, I _can't _actually do the splits or speak any other languages besides English. Well, I did try to learn Italian when I went to Milan last summer, but I soon ditched Italian classes in favour of shopping and flirting via mime and body language with cute local boys. But that's alright. I can learn.

"Becky!" Mum calls. "Are you nearly ready, darling? You don't want to be late for your first day of school!"

"Just a few more minutes!" I yell back, as I quickly check out my reflection.

Blazer? Check. Tie? Check. Pleated skirt? Check.

I sigh glumly. As if starting at a new school where I don't know a soul isn't bad enough, I'm also trapped in this ghastly preppy uniform. I'd _much _rather be wearing the coral minidress I bought at DKNY last week. There was a gorgeous pair of jeans I wanted too, but I'm waiting until they're on sale...

"Becky!" Now Mum's starting to sound more than just a little impatient and I can hear Dad honking the horn outside.

Yes, that's right, both of my parents are accompanying to my first day at Oxshott Prep. I guess I should be embarrassed about this, but the truth is, I'm actually kind of relieved that they'll be with me.

"Coming!" I yell, hastily grabbing my satchel (Prada) and my water bottle (Evian). I cast a last longing look at my gorgeous brown suede boots (Balenciaga) and try not to think about how much they cost – Dad is already going to freak out when he gets this month's credit card statement - and how much I wish I could wear them right now.

Mum looks at me proudly as I walk down the stairs.

"Don't you look adorable!" she exclaims. Her eyes glisten. "I can't believe my little baby Rebecca is already in the sixth form. Soon you'll be taking your A levels... then university... then perhaps getting married and settling down... and giving me a grandchild or two..."

I can't believe it. I'm still in high school and Mum is talking about _grandchildren._ I have to nip this in the bud right now.

"Mum, I thought we were running late!"

"Oh, but I thought it would be nice to get a picture of you in your school uniform, in front of the cherry tree," Mum pleads.

I glance at my watch (Gucci) impatiently. I _can't _be late for the first day.

"I'll do it another time, Mum, I promise. But we really have to go now!"

**XX**

Despite my worries about being late, my parents _do _manage to deliver me to Oxshott Prep on time. It's not long before Miss Parnell, the school secretary, is introducing me to my new headmaster, a middle-aged man in a dark suit.

"Mr Smeath, this is Rebecca Bloomwood. She's starting in the sixth form today."

Mr Smeath looks at me closely. "Pleased to meet you, Rebecca," he says cordially. "I know starting at a new school can be daunting, but I trust you'll make plenty of new friends in no time."

"Yes, sir," I manage to stammer out. Well, I plan to, thanks to David E. Barton.

"I've organised for one of the girls in your form to take you around for the day," he says. "Susan?"

As if on cue, a bubbly-looking girl with golden blonde curls and dimples appears and smiles warmly at me. I smile back, feeling my fears starting to dissipate, thanks to the friendly and welcoming expression on her face.

"Hi, I'm Suze," she says brightly. She glances at my satchel. "I love your bag. Prada is awesome."

"Thanks! I'm Becky and I love your bag too," I reply, gazing somewhat enviously at the denim Louis Vuitton bag that Suze is sporting.

We shake hands, under the approving gaze of Mr Smeath and the beaming faces of my parents. It sounds crazy but I swear I feel like I've just met my soulmate.

David E. Barton was right. It's all about finding friends with common interests and it looks like ours is designer bags.

**XX**

Suze proves to be a great tour guide and seems to know everybody in the school. All I have to do is point at someone and she'll instantly not only tell me their name, but their life history.

"Who's that?" I ask, pointing to a rather forlorn-looking boy who's sitting on his own and whittling at a piece of wood with a penknife. I'm actually quite surprised that they even allow penknives in a prep school – I mean, they don't even allow nail files in airports!

Suze rolls her eyes. "That's Tom Webster. He's a loner, as you can tell. He was dating this girl called Lucy for three years and then she dumped him for a drummer. He's never quite gotten over it."

"Okay," I say with a nod. "And who's that?"

Suze follows my gaze to a shy-looking guy who has his eyes closed and seems to be conducting to the music on his iPod.

"Oh, that's Tarquin," she says, but doesn't roll her eyes this time. "He's a bit strange too and he's mad about Wagner, but he's a nice guy, really. Also we're kind of related – our mothers are third cousins, so I see him as family."

"I see," I murmur, as Suze points out the gym, our French classroom and the chemistry labs.

But my attention is soon diverted. Outside the gym is a tall, slender girl with silky blonde hair that's perfectly straightened, and she actually manages to make our preppy school uniform look _hot. _But it's not the girl I'm noticing as much as the bag that is slung over her left shoulder.

"Wow! Check it out, Suze! That girl has an _Angel _handbag! Where on earth did she get that? I thought they were permanently sold out at Harrods!"

I gaze lustfully at the beautiful tawny bag with glittering diamantes on the front. I have never seen an Angel bag in person before and now that I've seen it, I can safely say that I have never wanted a bag as much as I want this one.

Suze glances at the girl and an uncharacteristically cold expression appears on her face.

"That's Alicia Billington, otherwise known as Alicia Bitch Long-Legs," she says stiffly. "I think Angel bags are amazing, but knowing that she owns one has dimmed its appeal for me."

I stare at Suze, wide-eyed. "Why do you call her Alicia Bitch Long-Legs? I mean, yeah, I can see that she's got long legs, but what did she do to deserve the 'bitch' part?"

Suze laughs sarcastically. "What _hasn't _she done?"

Seeing my perplexed face, she takes a deep breath and proceeds to fill me in. And if Suze isn't exaggerating, Alicia's nickname is starting to sound like the understatement of the century.

Apparently she had gotten a teacher fired, bribed a Year 9 boy to swap her GSCEs with those of another student, broken up several relationships, spread a horrendous rumour that had led one student to leave Oxshott Prep altogether, rigged a class presidential election... And that was just for starters.

"Wow," I mutter in disbelief. "And she got away with doing all those things?"

"Oh, yes. Her parents are _immensely _wealthy and contribute heaps of money to the school, so that definitely helps," Suze says earnestly. "Although I get the feeling there might be something more, some kind of hold that she has over Mr Smeath... but I have no idea what it might be."

"That's insane," I say quietly, silently hoping that I will never have to face the wrath of Alicia Billington.

**XX**

The morning passes by pretty quickly and I'm pleased to find that I actually _do _enjoy most of my classes. Even Math, normally the bane of my existence, is pretty interesting today.

Mr Kingbridge gives us a general ability pop quiz in class and I surprise everyone (including myself) by how quickly I answer his questions on fractions and percentages.

"Excellent work, Rebecca," he says at the end of the quiz. "You clearly have an aptitude for this subject. Did you do a lot of work on fractions and percentages in your former school? Our curriculum hasn't really covered this since the lower years, so most of the students in this class are rusty."

"No, we didn't really do a lot of fractions and percentages at my old school," I confess. "But when you go shopping, you have to be able to figure out how much 20% off is at a sale. I guess I just picked it up."

I turn and smile encouragingly at the rest of the class. "So if you want to improve in fractions and percentages, you should go shopping during the sales."

The class titters as though I've said something funny and Mr Kingbridge blinks in surprise.

"Uh, indeed. Moving on," he says, and coughs.

"Can you believe that?" whispers a snarky voice behind me. I look around and after Suze's description of Alicia, I'm not surprised to see that she's whispering to the girl next to her. The girl glances at me and they both giggle.

I shift self-consciously in my seat, suddenly wondering if I've said something wrong. Suddenly I can't wait until class is over.

_**Author's Note: If you managed to get this far and are still reading, I just want to say thanks. Thank you for reading this first chapter and for taking the time to read the author's note too. =)**_

_**I'm not from the UK, so I do apologise for any errors that I may have made or likely will make in the future.**_

_**I NEVER thought I'd write a high school story and especially not for this fandom, but this little plot bunny hopped into my head and I was powerless to stop it.**_

_**What are your thoughts? Is this too crazy and out there? Or would you be interested in reading more?**_

_**I will only be continuing this if you review and let me know that you want to see more of this story. And no, I'm afraid that Story Alerts don't count. ;)**_

_**That said, constructive criticism is most welcome and I will endeavour to reply to all signed reviews.**_

_**Cheers! xo**_


	2. A Visit to TopShop

"And _then s_he leans over to her friend and says, 'Can you believe that?'"

As I pour out my tale of woe to Suze, she listens and nods sympathetically. I've made it through my first day and now the two of us are walking to the bus stop.

"Welcome to Oxshott Prep," she says with a sigh. "You know you're part of this school when you've had your first encounter with Alicia."

I grimace. "And you know, the worst thing is I can't even complain about it to one of the teachers or Mr Smeath. I mean, it's not like she said anything really bad."

I pause and turn to Suze hopefully. "In fact, maybe she didn't mean anything by it at all! Maybe it wasn't even an insult. I could just be making a big deal out of nothing!"

Suze shakes her head grimly. "Sorry to break it to you, Becky," she says gently. "But if it's coming out of Alicia's mouth, trust me - it's an insult."

"Oh," I say forlornly. My hopes of not having made a fool out of myself in my first maths class on my first day here have been dashed.

"Cheer up," Suze coaxes. "I know the perfect cure for the experience you've just had."

She holds out her hand and hails a taxi, which immediately pulls over and waits at the kerb.

I look at her questioningly. "Aren't we supposed to be taking the bus home?"

"We can do that later," Suze says dismissively. "Like I said, there's only one cure for the kind of experience you've just had, and that's shopping!"

I gawk at her stupidly as she gets into the taxi and says to the driver, "TopShop, please."

Then she turns around and sees me with my feet still glued to the sidewalk.

"Becky, are you coming?"

I hesitate. My mind is too busy ticking through all the excuses that I should give Suze for why I _shouldn't _go with her.

I mean, I just went shopping yesterday. I'm already worrying about how much I've run up on Dad's credit cards. Mum and Dad are probably expecting me home early. I have heaps of homework to do.

But then again, it's _TopShop..._

I can't help thinking about the gorgeous emerald-green shift dress that I saw the last time I was in there. It's probably on sale by now. And that black pencil skirt on the cover of their latest catalogue was just adorable. I'd love to try it on...

I bite my lip. My resistance is melting.

"Come on, girl, I ain't got time to wait around all day," grumbles the taxi driver.

Suze frowns slightly. "Is something wrong?"

"Yes... I mean, no," I say with a sigh. "I mean, I shouldn't really be going shopping. I'm broke and I can't really afford to go out at the moment."

Suze looks relieved. "Oh, is that all? Don't worry! I can buy whatever you want and you just pay me back when you can."

I hesitate. I'm not used to owing people money. People outside my family, anyway.

"Are you sure?"

"Sure I'm sure!" Suze says gaily. She pulls out her wallet (Louis Vuitton) and shows me her gold credit card.

Well, I don't need any further convincing. I get in the taxi.

**XX**

Three and a half hours later, I'm finally home. I sneak in rather guiltily through the back door, loaded with shopping bags.

"Is that you, Becky?" Mum calls. "Do you want something to eat, love?"

"No, I had a pizza with Suze," I call back.

"Oh, that's nice that you've made a friend," Mum says happily. "She seems like a lovely girl."

"Yeah, she is!" I call back, as I quickly head to my bedroom and lock the door behind me.

I look at the pile of shopping bags on my bed. I hadn't realised just how much I had bought.

I hadn't wanted to take advantage of Suze's generosity, but she had been very persuasive.

As usual, I start unpacking my new purchases immediately – cutting off the price tags and mentally converting them into Mum prices. If my parents knew how much my brand-new silver stilettos _really _cost, they'd have simultaneous heart attacks.

As I gaze lovingly at the stilettos, I suddenly feel stricken. I must now owe Suze a _lot _of money. And while she doesn't seem to care about _when _I pay her back, I will have to pay her back eventually.

_Just how much do I owe her, anyway? _I wonder. Luckily I always keep my receipts.

Armed with a calculator, a notebook and a pink glittery pen (I _knew _that buying that package of pink glittery pens would come in useful one day!), I begin to total up my spending.

And when the final amount appears on the screen of my calculator, I gawk in astonishment. That _can't _be right. I can't owe Suze that much money!

I begin to add up the costs again, frantically punching sums into the calculator. And when I check the final amount again, I realise that I was right. I _don't _owe Suze that much money. I owe her ten pounds more.

I gulp. It's a big debt to have accumulated in only three hours of shopping. How will I ever afford to pay Suze back? It would probably be easier to just give her my firstborn son.

I know that if I told Mum and Dad, they'd do the best they could to help out. But with Dad already having to pay off some pretty exorbitant credit card bills, I'm just not sure that he and Mum would be able to help with this too. And to be honest, I don't think I could stand seeing the disappointment in his eyes when he finds out his only daughter has run up such a big debt.

_I could just return the clothes, _I realise. _Then I can get the money back and give it to Suze. It'll be alright. I'll just return the clothes tomorrow._

I can't help mournfully stroking the soft satiny material of my new violet dress. _No! Not my new violet dress. It's not going to be mine anymore._

Sadly, I return the clothes and shoes to their shopping bags and then stash them in my closet, so that I won't have to look at them. I'll take them back tomorrow.

**XX**

My second day at Oxshott Prep is definitely a lot easier than the first. Having Suze as an ally and staunch friend definitely helps. She makes a point of introducing me to all of her friends, gives me tips on what to expect from various teachers and takes me to the oval during lunch period, so that we can spy on the cute boys playing football.

One guy in particular catches my attention. Tall and broad-shouldered with dark hair and penetrating dark eyes, he's the cutest of the lot.

"Who's he?" I say to Suze with a nudge. She glances at the boy I'm subtly nodding towards and frowns instantly.

"His name is Luke Brandon," she says. "But don't get any ideas about him, Becky. Alicia's made it pretty clear that she wants him and whatever Alicia wants, she usually gets."

It's my turn to frown. "So are he and Alicia actually going out or anything?"

"It's hard to say," Suze replies thoughtfully. "He'll escort her to dances and other events every now and again, but they don't seem to be officially dating. Not for lack of trying on her part, though."

I take another sip of my water. "Well, correct me if I'm wrong here, but if they're not dating, doesn't that mean Luke is available?"

Suze snorts. "I wouldn't cross Alicia, if I were you. If she can't have Luke, she'll make sure no-one can. Did I ever tell you what she did to..."

But I tune out and miss hearing the rest of Suze's story. I'm too busy daydreaming.

_Rebecca and Luke._

_Mrs Rebecca Brandon._

_Mrs Rebecca Bloomwood-Brandon._

_Mrs Luke Brandon._

_Mr and Mrs Luke Brandon._

_Mrs Becky Brandon._

Perfect.

**XX**

_**Author's Note: **__Thank you to everyone who took the time to review the first chapter and encouraged me to continue this! It's always nerve-racking to be starting a new story in a new fandom – you just don't know what the response will be like and whether people will enjoy what you're writing or not. So I was really delighted to hear your positive comments!_

_Hope that you enjoy this chapter too. If you're still reading this, I'd love to hear from you! =)_


	3. Meeting Luke

"Were these bags so heavy yesterday?" Suze puffs, as she picks up another carrier bag and attempts to shove it into my locker. Her attempt is spectacularly unsuccessful – the bag doesn't even fit through the door.

I look doubtfully at the remaining six bags sitting on the floor in front of us. There's no way that I'll be able to store the rest of these. Just two carrier bags are already taking up most of the room and those aren't even the bags with the heaviest items.

OK, in hindsight, perhaps bringing my shopping bags to school hadn't been the best idea.

It had seemed like a stroke of genius this morning.

Suze and I would be able to smuggle the bags out of the house before Mum and Dad got up. I'd have somewhere to store the bags all day, and first thing after school, we would head to TopShop and return everything I'd bought yesterday. Well, except for the silver stilettos. There was _no way _that I was giving those up too.

I just hadn't considered how eight bulky shopping bags would fit into my already undersized locker.

I don't know what Oxshott Prep does with the exorbitant fees they charge students, but it definitely doesn't go towards locker space.

"Maybe we can just leave them in the storeroom or something," Suze says doubtfully, as she glances at my bulging locker.

"And have the janitor find them when he goes in to clean up or something? Over my dead body," I say firmly.

Suze rolls her eyes. "Becky, please, what would Mr Hartwood do with a strapless blue dress?"

I try to picture our portly middle-aged janitor in the strapless blue minidress I'd bought on sale yesterday. Suze and I burst into simultaneous giggles.

"OK, how about I take a couple of these and put them into my locker?" Suze suggests finally, wiping tears of laughter from her eyes. "And hey, maybe I can even convince Tarkie to take a couple. He hardly ever uses his locker. Then you'll only have two more to try and fit into your locker."

"Alright," I say with a sigh. Suze generously takes the four heaviest bags and heads down the corridor and around the corner.

I look dubiously at the remaining two bags and pause for a moment, before taking a deep breath and wedging the bags in my locker as far back as I possibly can. Then I lift the last two bags and shove them in.

It's a bit of a struggle, but they fit – sort of.

I stand back and look triumphantly at my work, before attempting to shut the locker door. It won't even budge.

I push as hard as I can, but my attempts seem to be fruitless.

"Need a hand?"

The deep throaty voice seems to come out of nowhere and I spin around in surprise. For standing behind me is none other than Luke Brandon, looking more gorgeous than ever.

And here I am, looking hot and sweaty as I'm trying to slam my own locker door shut.

Oh. My. God.

"T-t-t-that would be nice," I finally manage to stutter and I step back again, as he leans over.

He looks at the carrier bags crammed in my locker and raises an eyebrow.

"Been shopping, have we?"

"Uh... it's for the homeless," I say quickly. "My aunt collects clothes and other items for the homeless and I'm just storing some of this stuff until I can give it to her."

"I see," he says with a slight smirk on his face. "What's your aunt's name? She sounds like a very charitable woman."

My mind goes blank as he stares at me with those incredible dark eyes. Suddenly I can't think of any female names, other than my own and Suze's.

"Erm...Erm...Ermintrude," I find myself saying.

Luke nods thoughtfully. "Aunt Ermintrude, huh?"

"Yes, that's right," I say defensively.

_Can he tell I'm lying? Oh, God, who am I kidding? He can totally tell I'm lying._

He somehow manages to push the bags back even further than I'd done and then gives the locker door a mighty slam.

It's a miracle! It shuts!

"Thank you so much," I say gratefully.

"No worries," he says with a wink. "You're new here, aren't you?"

I nod.

"I'm Luke Brandon. What's your name?"

"Rebecca Bloomwood," I manage to say with some dignity as I smooth back my mussed hair.

"Rebecca Bloomwood," he repeats slowly. He grins at me. "I'll see you around, Rebecca Bloomwood."

I stare at him as he walks down the hallway, my heart racing excitedly.

I've just had my first conversation with Luke Brandon. And now I like him more than ever.

**XX**

"I swear this place has gotten new stock since yesterday!" Suze says in amazement, as we enter TopShop for the second time in two days, arms loaded with my shopping bags.

I turn away and pretend I can't see the raspberry-coloured top in the corner that seems to be calling my name. I need to hurry up and get out of here – it's just way too tempting.

The woman at the counter is on the phone. It looks like she might be a while.

"Sorry, Bex, I just _have _to go try on that dress," Suze murmurs, her eyes on a silvery chiffon dress on a nearby mannequin. I avert my gaze from the dress, even though it would match my silver stilettos perfectly.

"Sure, that's fine," I say.

Gosh, it's hard to be in a shop and not be able to buy something. I don't understand _how _people can window-shop – there's no way you can get the same pleasure from it as actual shopping!

"Can I help you, miss?" the woman at the counter says finally, as she hangs up the phone. She smiles at me in a friendly manner.

"Oh, yes," I say eagerly as I press forward with my load of carrier bags. "I'd like to return some things, please."

The woman's eyes widen in shock as I heft all eight carrier bags onto the counter. Her smile looks decidedly less friendly.

"_All _of these?"

"Yes, all," I say firmly.

I'm actually quite proud of myself. A few years ago, I would _never _have agreed to return so many items, especially items I hadn't even had the chance to wear yet! I really am growing up.

"And is there something wrong with these items?"

"Oh, no, they're lovely. I just can't afford to keep them all," I say, smiling congenially at the woman. She's a woman _and _she works in TopShop – surely she understands how I feel.

Her eyes narrow. "I'm afraid TopShop has a very strict returns policy," she says frostily. "We don't accept refunds if there is nothing wrong with the goods in question."

I look at her in astonishment. "You mean... you can't take these back?"

"I'm afraid not," she says dismissively, turning to the customer standing behind me. "Excuse me, may I help you, sir?"

"But... but what am I going to do with all of these?" I sputter, pointing to my eight heavy carrier bags. "How am I going to pay them off?"

"You should get a job, young lady," the man behind me quips and the queue of waiting customers all start laughing.

They're laughing at _me. _I feel my cheeks start to burn with humiliation as I scoop up my load of bags and walk slowly towards the exit.

Suze is nowhere in sight, so I send her a text during the taxi ride home. It simply tells her that I couldn't return the things I'd bought and that I had to go home.

I don't tell her about the people laughing at me. I'd just as soon keep that a secret. TopShop has always been one of my favourite shops, but I don't think I'll be going back there anytime soon.

I glance at the row of carrier bags that I've managed to stash at the back of my closet. Of course, I won't even need to go back there anytime soon. I've got enough clothes from there to last me for a very long time.

Part of me is secretly excited about being able to keep the clothes and shoes. But the other, more sensible part of me is freaked out. I'm right back to square one – I have no idea how I'm ever going to afford to pay Suze back. Not on the allowance Mum and Dad give me.

Then I think back to what the old man in TopShop had said to me.

"_You should get a job, young lady."_

A job! It's like a little lightbulb has gone off in my head.

_That's_ the answer to my problems. I can start working after school and on the weekend – then I'll not only be able to keep the clothes, but I'll be able to pay Suze back too!

I nod determinedly. Yes, that's what I'm going to do. It's the only way.

Starting tomorrow, I, Becky Bloomwood, am going to look for a job.

_**Author's Note: Thanks to Howl-SheWulf, Austentatious, mcs2533, jediahsokaroxx, morosexecstasy, steph, random reader and Mandy for reviewing the last chapter. Love hearing from you all!**_

_**Want to find out what happens next? Review to find out!**_


	4. Seven Is My Lucky Number

OK. So I didn't think that getting a job would be _this _hard.

On the news, they're always talking about the unemployment rate and how they need more people to be working, right? And our careers advisor is always telling us we should get part-time jobs, so that we can have some experience in the workforce.

But this is officially the _sixth _rejection I've had so far and I'm starting to feel more than a little discouraged.

It doesn't help that three-quarters of the jobs that get advertised are intended for people who have experience. How on earth are you supposed to get experience if nobody will hire you?

"Don't worry. You'll find something soon," Suze says encouragingly. "Seven's your lucky number, right? You've had six rejections now, so you're _bound _to get the next job."

I wish I had the same faith in me that Suze apparently does.

Actually, no, if I'm honest, I'd rather just have the same allowance that Suze does.

"Hey, look!" Suze says excitedly, tugging at my arm. "There's a shop right there and it's got a 'Help Wanted' sign in the window! It's a sign!"

My head snaps up immediately and I scan the window quickly. I'm not looking at the 'Help Wanted' sign – I'm checking at the clothes and bags on display. And I have to say, they're pretty nice.

_I wouldn't mind working in this shop at all._

"Come on, Becky!" Suze says, her eyes shining brightly. "This is number seven. You're going to get it, I know you will!"

**...**

Five minutes later, I'm sitting in a small office and having my seventh job interview with a woman named Daniella.

She looks like she's in her mid-forties but she's still in reasonably good shape. She looks elegant in an impeccably ironed linen suit. Unfortunately the suit is a strange shade of pale lemon yellow which is completely unsuitable for someone with her white-blonde hair. She's also wearing a shade of plum-red lipstick which clashes severely with her pastel colours.

But I'm not here to judge her style. I'm here to have a job interview.

Focus, Becky. _Focus._

"And how much experience have you had working in retail, Rebecca?"

I wince. This is always the part where the interview starts going wrong. In another few minutes, she'll be ushering me out the door with a polite "We'll call you."

You know what I found out after six rejections? They _never _call you.

"Uh, none," I admit quietly.

Daniella raises a perfectly plucked eyebrow. "None at all?"

"No," I say despondently, knowing the end is near.

She sighs. "Oh, dear. Well, I'm not quite sure that you'd be the right person to work here, then."

"Wait a minute," I interrupt, desperate not to let job number seven be snatched out of my grasp. "I may not have experience but I'm a quick learner. I _love _fashion and I'd really like the opportunity to get my foot into the industry. I'd be really good at working in retail. Please just give me a chance!"

Daniella still looks doubtful. "I don't know. I still have a few other interviews this afternoon..."

"Just a trial. Please!" I plead, hating to beg but really, _really _not wanting to be rejected again. "Just give me a try and then if it doesn't work, I won't mind if you fire me."

Daniella looks thoughtful.

"Alright, let's try a little role play," she suggests. "I'm going to be a customer and I want you to guide me around the shop, OK?"

This is _so _up my alley. I'm glad that I had some time to evaluate the stock earlier and I'm pretty familiar with what they sell here.

"OK, I can do that," I say confidently. 

"Excuse me, miss," Daniella says, slipping into the role of customer. "I was wondering if you could get me this gold top in a size 10?"

I glance at the top and try not to wince. I'm secretly beginning to wonder if Daniella is colour blind or something because this top _totally _doesn't go with her hair and complexion. It's actually making her awful lemon suit look pretty good in comparison.

"I could," I say politely. "But if it's OK with you, I'd like to find something that I think might actually work better for you."

Daniella raises an eyebrow at this. It's like I've taken over her scripted dialogue and written my own lines.

"Alright," she says hesitantly, but she's frowning and doesn't look pleased.

I know that I probably only have one shot to impress her. I take a few minutes to gather up some items before I come back to her.

"See, this jade wraparound dress really suits your figure and brings out the colour of your eyes," I suggest helpfully, holding up the dress for Daniella's inspection. "And here's a pair of silver heels that go with the dress as well some onyx and jade jewellery. Finally, this little clutch ties it all together."

Daniella looks stunned.

"Or if you're still intent on something bright, you could try coral," I add helpfully. "See, this coral top goes great with your colouring and you can dress it down with a nice pair of jeans or black slacks. These coral-and-gold earrings and this gold necklace would finish it all off."

There's a very long pause as Daniella scrutinises me again.

"Congratulations, Rebecca. You get the job."

**...**

"I knew you could do it, Becky!" Suze says happily when I call her immediately to let her know the good news. "I _told _you that seven would be your lucky number!"

Mum and Dad aren't nearly as excited when I make the announcement at the dinner table that evening. 

"Won't this get in the way of your studies, Becky?" Dad asks with a slight frown.

"Oh, no. It'll _motivate _me even more because it's so relevant to what I'm studying!" I explain. "My commerce classes will come to life now that I'm actually part of the economy!"

Mum has other concerns. "Becky, darling, what about your social life? You need to have time to spend with your friends, like that lovely Suze girl for example."

"I'll make time," I promise. "I'll keep on track of everything, honestly! Don't you trust me?"

My parents exchange glances. They're doing that parent thing where they have a conversation with their eyes that only they can understand.

"Alright, Becky. You can have a job. But the minute it starts interfering with your life, you'll have to quit," Dad says finally.

I beam and hug them both. "It won't! You'll see! Having this job is going to be the best thing _ever_."

Little did I know what was in store for me. No pun intended.

**...**

**Author's Note: Thank you SO much to Howl-SheWulf, jediahsokaroxx, meezzy, smoshyuna, LoveUrStories, mcs2533, cellophanesoldiers, Jess4569 and Cybu for reviewing the last chapter!**

**I'm sorry that I've kept you guys waiting for this one. With your encouragement and support, I sure hope the next one comes faster. I'm planning another Becky-Luke encounter, so stay tuned!**

**I love making new friends on Twitter, so if you're on it, feel free to follow me and say hi! The link is on my profile.**


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